His bad day
by Addster
Summary: He can feel the darkness creeping up on him, shivers at the touch of Death's hand on his chin. But the child is saved by the one who made him, the only one who cares.


Glass shattered somewhere around him and he knew he had been found. He frantically tucked his small body behind a nearby trashcan, pulling some bags in front of him for even more protection, but to no avail. The two men came to a brisk stop at the entrance of the alley and one tapped the other on the arm in conformation and started forward, deeper into the muggy passageway, inching closer towards their target. Drunken bowel shaking laughs echoed throughout the dank alley and reached the little one's ears.

A silent sob retched itself from his throat and he felt the sting of tears roll down his face. One of the men stopped and put a finger to his lips and listened. He turned to his accomplice and nodded while pointing to where their target lay hidden. The two crept over towards the piles of trash and ripped the bags away to expose the boy's hiding place. Before the little one could give out a cry, they had him by the collar and then thrown down on the ground.

"You thought you could hide? Pff, bull kiddo." The heavier of the two launched his foot in the boy's side and made him roll a few inches away. An aching cry squeezed its way from his tightened throat as his little arms wrapped around his chest.

"That aint' gonna help, punk! You're dead meat without us havin' to try!" The tall man with a goatee hollered as he threw a rock at the boy's leg, cutting it open and leaving a gash. The verbal beating lasted longer than the physical as the two drunken men berated the boy with slurred curses and loud profanity. The boy remained still, not wanting to aggravate his assailants further by putting up a fight, but he never stopped yelling at them.

"Please stop! Stop! Why do you do this?" He cried as he felt a foot land in his side and knock out his breath. It hurt him to cry. It hurt him to think. It hurt him to keep his eyes open.

So he stopped.

He closed his eyes and stopped crying, he turned off his brain and let everything go black. Soon enough he couldn't feel the feet smashing his ribs, couldn't hear the words cutting into him like knives. He felt nothing at all. He was scared at the same time relief had washed over him, drowning out the curses and the pain. In his corner of darkness, he found peace in his pain.

Peace until he heard the shouting. They felt far away and small, like an ant calling up to a giraffe. Then they became more distinct, clearer to his far away ears. It was a woman's voice: high pitched and permeating. To his left he heard one of the men slosh through a sentence and the other give a snort. Somewhere behind him glass shattered and a tin trashcan tumbled over, it's innards spilling over the alley floor. A painful moan was audible to his far right and some kind of weight fell in front of his body.

The boy felt hands gently flip him over and hold him close to a warm chest he could have sworn he knew. The hands started running their way through his hair and up and down his back softly. He felt the vibrations of her voice run through her chest as she tried to talk to him, tried desperately to wake him and prevent his mind from slipping away from consciousness. He could feel her pace pick up and the cool breeze brush against his face. The little boy suddenly felt a hot tear fall on his head and her lips brushing against his forehead in a comforting kiss. She poured over her words, sorting through them to find the best ones to soothe him (he didn't realize he was crying and moaning) and calm him down. Before he passed out, he managed to open his sore eyes and look up at his savior, to look in her eyes and see her face. He saw her tears spilling down her face and a small smile tug at her lips. The darkness of unconsciousness began tickling the back of his skull and his eyes began to slowly close until both eyelids met again. The silence started numbing his body, starting with his toes and quickly making it's way up his back.

She felt him going limp and started running even faster, the tears seeming to burn even hotter in response as she continued talking (shouting) to him. A fire burned in the pit of her gut, delusional anger spread throughout her and her hands found themselves holding him even tighter in anguish of losing him. But she didn't stop talking.

Subconsciously, he heard every word. His brain wasn't doing as well with it floating in the inky blackness of cataleptic sleep. He felt her hands tighten and her words strain themselves along with her throat to open and push the air out to form a word. He was starting to fade, starting to succumb to the darkness that offered peace, longing for the undisturbed rest he so desperately desired. He was one step away when it all dissolved at the sound of one word she cried on the outside. The one word he had never truly known, a word he didn't know could do something like save a life.

"I love you." She cried into his hair as she put him on the hospital bed and let go as the doctors wheeled him off to the room that had been prepared for him. A smile was able to form on his weary features as he felt the four letter word melt in his heart and seep into his being as new, strange hands worked quickly and gently to save his life.

She sat with her face hidden in her hands. She wouldn't dare let anyone see her cry; that just wasn't in her comfort zone at the moment. So she resorted to one of her earliest instincts: hide your hurt.

The breath she had been holding for god knows how long finally managed to squeeze through her tightly clenched teeth and blow away stray tears that had collected on her lip. She ran her hands through her (dull in the fluorescent hospital light) blonde hair and sucked up the slight congestion. She leaned back slowly into her chair and let her head fall against the wall behind her. Nerves all throughout her body started acting up and tingling the bottoms of her feet and palms of her hands. An uptight laugh streamed out of her mouth as she covered her mouth with a shaky hand and shut her eyes. She let the hand fall to reveal a sharp line where her mouth was, her lips pressed together so tightly they were white.

Her fingers fiddled with the end of her shirt and soon transformed into a nervous tugging of the fabric. Heavy footsteps reverberated down the hallway behind her, coming closer to her position. She turned her head reluctantly enough to make it appear that she didn't purposefully hear the doctor coming a mile away, although he did put a more significant amount of pressure on the pads of his feet than the ball due to the slapping sound he made. She pushed the obsessive thought away and quickly gathered herself to greet the doctor. When he and his loud feet finally made their way over to her, she quietly watched as the middle-aged doctor took in a heavy breath.

"He's gonna be fine." The doctor spoke softly as he put a hand on her shoulder as she held back a cry of relief.

"C-can I see hi-him?" She managed to choke out between sobs and the doctor gave her a reassuring smile.

"He's been asking for you quite persistently. Ever since he woke up…" She nodded and took note of the room the doctor pointed out then hurried over. Her eyes focused on the room number next to the door as it got closer and closer. She finally made it to his door and let her hand clutch the frame of the door to stop her from busting in at her full speed, running her hands over his room number she had so intently focused on. And there he was, sitting Indian style on his bed and staring out his window. She cupped her mouth so as not to startle him and slowly walked in. His little blonde head turned to her and his golden eyes sparkled in the early-morning light pouring in from the window to his left.

"Hey buddy." She whispered as she slid onto his bed next to him and wrapped his small body in her embrace. He nuzzled deep into her and hid his head in her arms as he felt her chest rise and fall. In the long moment the two sat with each other, not a word was said. She could feel him squirm this way and that to the point she knew he wanted to say something. She let him go and allowed him to lean his head on her chest and let her fingers flow through his hair.

"Why did they hurt me?" He whispered in his quiet child's voice. For a while she was silent, not wanting to contemplate what those maggots were thinking when they jumped him. She kept staring at the wall until she felt her chest start to get warm and she looked down. He had started crying up at her and she felt a pang of guilt shoot through her.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm so sorry." She cooed into his hair as he huddled up even closer against her and started sobbing into her shoulder. He continued asking her why the men beat him, why they called him those names.

"I-sniff, I didn't do anything!" He cried and she cradled his head into her neck while she buried her face into his soft locks of blonde that resembled hers' so much these days and soothed him best she could. She started to slowly rock back and forth on the bed, and then finally resorting to getting up and walking around his room with his tiny body nestled naturally on hers' as she continued to soothe. She felt his sobs deteriorate into grumpy gurgles and sniffles as he finally calmed down. She set herself back on the bed with him still laying on her; if he looked up they would be face to face. She ran a finger down his arm and he lifted his head to look up at her.

"Why does everyone hate me?" He stated more than asked with his eyes boring into her honey-brown with the most serious face a five year-old could manage. She felt an enormous weight of self-reproach as she held his stare and focused on those tired looking eyes of his.

"Nobody can hate you if they don't know you." She told him gently and immediately felt him tense.

"They hate me and they don't know me! They hurt me!" He looked about to cry again when she cupped his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes with honesty drenched features.

"They just don't understand you baby, that's the problem, they don't understand how you're the same as them." She said in her softest voice she could muster. He gave her a puzzled look and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"What do you mean?" Before he had a chance to tuck his hand back in, she softly wrapped her hands around his small one and gave it a kiss.

"Here, let me show you." She gently let his hand fall and touched a finger to the boy's nose.

"What is this?" She asked patiently and waited for his answer.

"It's my nose." He said dryly and she smiled.

"Exactly." She stated triumphantly.

"Just like everyone else on planet Earth." She removed her finger from his nose and resumed to cup his face once again.

"You also have two ears, two beautiful eyes, and a mouth." She picked up his hand and splayed it against hers to compare the sizes.

"They may be a bit smaller, but you have ten little fingers…" Her hand traveled down to his feet and tickled his toes, getting a squeal or two in response.

"You also have ten little toes, some hair, and a handsome face like everyone else does." He continued to look at her with his re-composed mild irritability after he had recovered from the recent tickling and now showed no sort of amusement.

"What does that have to do with anything?" He asked her, still not quite understanding what she was talking about. She shifted him on her to where he now had his head laying on top of her chest. He heard her take a breath, signaling she was going to start speaking again. He didn't fidget or squirm, just listened. He felt some primitive comfort in listening to her speak from this angle, hearing her smooth words echo and make her chest hum gave him the warmest sensation of peace, much more favorable than the inky blackness he almost drowned in. Her hands found themselves around his body, pulling him in closer.

"It means that you have exactly the same things everyone else has. Here…" She cupped his exposed ear and tenderly pressed his head against her chest.

"Listen carefully. What do you hear?" He listened closely; he ignored the outside noises of the hospital and the noise of the sheets when he scooted in closer.

"Your heartbeat?" She nodded and sat him up with care.

"Right." She paused and laid his hand against his own chest.

"Now what do you feel?" Under her hand, his lay right on top of his heart. He could feel the muscle pumping under his skin and bones; he felt it beat in a pattern similar to hers, only smaller and not as strong.

"My heart." He smiled when he said it and looked up at her and watched her give him a tired smile. She took his hands in hers and brought them up together as the two looked each other in the eyes.

"See? Even though people may think you're different from them, you're exactly the same as they are. They're just a little stupid if they see that way." He smiled and lay back onto her chest, content with her answer and content with his position. Slowly but surely, he was asleep. And the two hearts beat as one.


End file.
